


Midnight

by katiebuttercup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Hints of usuk, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France and America have a discussion in the middle of the night</p><p>Update: Kindly beta read by graceadee</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losthitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losthitsu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tip-toes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/489697) by [losthitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losthitsu/pseuds/losthitsu). 



> Apologies to losthitsu

Disclaimer: characters are not mine 

The shower feels heavenly after such a long flight. America has many luxuries in his home but France's favourite is the large, opulent shower and he stays under the powerful spray as long as possible.

Travel has never been as natural to France as it has been to his contemporaries. Both England and Spain had thrived exploring the oceans and expanding their empires, never happier when they were at sea. But France had always preferred the comforts of home.

But it is the duty of nations to keep relations good and that requires a certain amount of travel. He is grateful that nowadays travel is much quicker and luxurious.

In the middle of the night his mind wanders into dangerous places and so France begins a quest for some decaf to soothe his lonely soul. He doesn't expect to have company, not least his host, but there is light spilling from the door and the sound of crunching.

He raises an eyebrow as he finds America sat at the island chomping through a packet of Oreos as if they were his last meal. France, charitably in his view, finds it charming rather than alarming.

"Mind if I join you?"

For a moment America seems to forget to breath and chew at the same time and it results in the younger nation beginning to choke, he quickly rights himself by downing the glass of milk nearby in one go.

"Damnit, you scared me France!"

France settles opposite him when it's apparent that America isn't in the verge of death via choking.

"Can't sleep?"

America groans, "it's like my brain doesn't get that it's night already and goes on and on about the shit that happened during the day,"

"I know more than well how that feels, America" sometimes it feels like that's all he ever does. Centuries of meetings although he misses the intrigues of court-some of the flourish has been lost to time. Meetings nowadays are an endless stream of identical boardrooms in different cities, gone were the days of palaces and princes.

America pushes the packet of Oreos towards France who surveys the damage before picking up a biscuit.

He amuses himself in watching America as he gobbles down the treats with enthusiasm, watching some of the stress bleed out of him. He never tires of looking at America, young and vibrant, if troubled. He has so much power, more than France could have ever have imagined himself having had at his age, but by and large he is coping, trying to be a force of good in the world while battling his own demons at home.

He senses politics would not be a good conversation, America is prickly and defensive over the topic and France is in no mood to fight. He is churning over ideas when America pipes up with:

"How are you?" He asks with excited interest, then, leaning closer, "you know with Scotland! You guys doing fine?"

"Scotland?" It's the last subject he expected to discuss with America of all people. He hadn't thought it had crossed the young man's radar.

He says it in a dramatic whisper worthy of the swoon worthy love stories of Hollywood and France is almost sorry to burst his bubble.

"America there is no 'us' with Scotland and me. We are merely...how do you call it, this friends with benefits thing?"

"Fuckbuddies?" America clarifies, his expression clears but somehow he looks sad.

"Exactly."

"Oh." America looks a little lost, "I thought you guys were together."

France tilts his head, "now why the sad face? You know this is a very normal situation for us older nations.”

He doesn't intentionally mean to differentiate but America is defensive almost quicker then England has ever been, which is saying something.

"I'm not a little kid, France.”

France looks at him, handsome with chiselled face, tan skin and fluid muscles, he is nothing like a child and yet France cannot help but see that young man yearning for freedom.

"No you are not," he allows, but the distinction still stands, that he and the rest of the older nations think differently from those who were once colonies.

"We were brought up in different times, and we've learned that affection is easily misused if one is not careful,” certainly he had played enough games with emotion in his time, manipulated emotion when it has suited him, and forgotten it just as easily. His present situation is much more pleasant.

"But we live in a different world now!" America is hitting a stride now, tone becoming slightly more insistent, "we don't marry princesses for the sake of alliances-you haven't had a king for more that two hundred years! It's a different world even your generation have settled down.”

It is an unkind thing to do but France takes the opportunity, "perhaps you are speaking of yourself now, hmm?"

America flushes and looks away. France continues on, "Just because you wish for things to be different doesn't make them so. and you are right that many of us have formed partnerships but that doesn't change the fact that for most of us-" he doesn't name names but puts enough emphasis on the word that America can't help but take his meaning, "monogamous relationships should be avoided if we wish to maintain healthy alliances.”

France expects anger but the sadness on America's face deepens and then is followed by a resignation so deep that it looks unnatural on such a handsome, young face. He almost, almost wishes things were different for America’s sake but in this he and England are perfectly matched and it's a shame America's heart has to be crushed in the process.

America rallies himself for one last volley, "and how about Scotland?"

"He is just as old as I am and wouldn't want to change anything.”

France decides this conversation has gone on enough, he stands "it's getting late, I think we're both ready for sleep and--"

"Don't you love him?"

Everything in France slows down, until he can feel the pulse of his heart in his ears, but he has momentum and he quickly finds his feet, smiling at the younger nation fondly.

"That really doesn't have anything to do with the matter we were discussing, America."

"But..."

"Good night!" He gestures to the remains of the Oreos on the counter, "don't eat too many or you'll feel sick tomorrow."

He pats America's cheek and returns to his bed. Tomorrow this conversation will be forgotten and personally France can't wait.


End file.
